bothhands. "Thank God! I was beginning to despair of finding you. Aren'tyou ashamed of frightening me like this? Upon my word, IlyaStepanitch!"
"What do you want of me?" repeated Tyeglev.
"I want ... I want you, in the first place, to come back home with me.And secondly, I want, I insist, I insist as a friend, that you explainto me at once the meaning of your actions--and of this letter to thecolonel. Can something unexpected have happened to you in Petersburg?"
"I found in Petersburg exactly what I expected," answered Tyeglev,without moving from the spot.
"That is ... you mean to say ... your friend ... this Masha...."
"She has taken her life," Tyeglev answered hurriedly and as it wereangrily. "She was buried the day before yesterday. She did not evenleave a note for me. She poisoned herself."
Tyeglev hurriedly uttered these terrible words and still stoodmotionless as a stone.
I clasped my hands. "Is it possible? How dreadful! Your presentimenthas come true.... That is awful!"
I stopped in confusion. Slowly and with a sort of triumph Tyeglevfolded his arms.
"But why are we standing here?" I began. "Let us go home."
"Let us," said Tyeglev. "But how can we find the way in this fog?"
"There is a light in our windows, and we will make for it. Comealong."
"You go ahead," answered Tyeglev. "I will follow you." We set off. Wewalked for five minutes and our beacon light still did not appear; atlast it gleamed before us in two red points. Tyeglev stepped evenlybehind me. I was desperately anxious to get home as quickly aspossible and to learn from him all the details of his unhappyexpedition to Petersburg. Before we reached the hut, impressed by whathe had said, I confessed to him in an access of remorse and a sort ofsuperstitious fear, that the mysterious knocking of the previousevening had been my doing ... and what a tragic turn my jest hadtaken!
Tyeglev confined himself to observing that I had nothing to do withit--that something else had guided my hand--and this only showed howlittle I knew him. His voice, strangely calm and even, sounded closeto my ear. "But you do not know me," he added. "I saw you smileyesterday when I spoke of the strength of my will. You will come toknow me--and you will remember my words."
The first hut of the village sprang out of the fog before us like somedark monster ... then the second, our hut, emerged--and my setter dogbegan barking, probably scenting me.
I knocked at the window. "Semyon!" I shouted to Tyeglev's servant,"hey, Semyon! Make haste and open the gate for us."
The gate creaked and opened; Semyon crossed the threshold.
"Ilya Stepanitch, come in," I said, and I looked round. But no IlyaStepanitch was with me. Tyeglev had vanished as though he had sunkinto the earth.
I went into the hut feeling dazed.
XIV
Vexation with Tyeglev and with myself succeeded the amazement withwhich I was overcome at first.
"Your master is mad!" I blurted out to Semyon, "raving mad! Hegalloped off to Petersburg, then came back and is running about allover the place! I did get hold of him and brought him right up to thegate--and here he has given me the slip again! To go out of doors on anight like this! He has chosen a nice time for a walk!"
"And why did I let go of his hand?" I reproached myself. Semyon lookedat me in silence, as though intending to say something--but after thefashion of servants in those days he simply shifted from one foot tothe other and said nothing.
"What time did he set off for town?" I asked sternly.
"At six o'clock in the morning."
"And how was he--did he seem anxious, depressed?" Semyon looked down."Our master is a deep one," he began. "Who can make him out? He toldme to get out his new uniform when he was going out to town--and thenhe curled himself."
"Curled himself?"
"Curled his hair. I got the curling tongs ready for him."
That, I confess, I had not expected. "Do you know a young lady," Iasked Semyon, "a friend of Ilya Stepanitch's. Her name is Masha."
"To be sure I know Marya Anempodistovna! A nice young lady."
"Is your master in love with this Marya ... et cetera?"
Semyon heaved a sigh. "That young lady is Ilya Stepanitch's undoing.For he is desperately in love with her--and can't bring himself tomarry her--and sorry to give her up, too. It's all his honour'sfaintheartedness. He is very fond of her."
"What is she like then, pretty?" I inquired.
Semyon assumed a grave air. "She is the sort that the gentry like."
"And you?"
"She is not the right sort for us at all."
"How so?"
"Very thin in the body."
"If she died," I began, "do you think Ilya Stepanitch would notsurvive her?"
Semyon heaved a sigh again. "I can't venture to say that--there's noknowing with gentlemen ... but our master is a deep one."
I took up from the table the big, rather thick letter that Tyeglev hadgiven me and turned it over in my hands.... The address to "his honourthe Commanding Officer of the Battery, Colonel So and So" (the name,patronymic, and surname) was clearly and distinctly written. The word_urgent_, twice underlined, was written in the top left-handcorner of the envelope.
"Listen, Semyon," I began. "I feel uneasy about your master. I fancyhe has some mischief in his mind. We must find him."
"Yes, sir," answered Semyon.
"It is true there is such a fog that one cannot see a couple of yardsahead; but all the same we must do our best. We will each take alantern and light a candle in each window--in case of need."
"Yes, sir," repeated Semyon. He lighted the lanterns and the candlesand we set off.
XV
I can't describe how we wandered and lost our way! The lanterns wereof no help to us; they did not in the least dissipate the white,almost luminous mist which surrounded us. Several times Semyon and Ilost each other, in spite of the fact that we kept calling to eachother and hallooing and at frequent intervals shouted--I: "Tyeglev!Ilya Stepanitch!" and Semyon: "Mr. Tyeglev! Your honour!" The fog sobewildered us that we wandered about as though in a dream; soon wewere both hoarse; the fog penetrated right into one's chest. Wesucceeded somehow by help of the candles in the windows in reachingthe hut again. Our combined action had been of no use--we merelyhandicapped each other--and so we made up our minds not to troubleourselves about getting separated but to go each our own way. He wentto the left, I to the right and I soon ceased to hear his voice. Thefog seemed to have found its way into my brain and I wandered like onedazed, simply shouting from time to time, "Tyeglev! Tyeglev!"
"Here!" I heard suddenly in answer.
Holy saints, how relieved I was! How I rushed in the direction fromwhich the voice came.... A human figure loomed dark before me.... Imade for it. At last!
But instead of Tyeglev I saw another officer of the same battery,whose name was Tyelepnev.
"Was it you answered me?" I asked him.
"Was it you calling me?" he asked in his turn.
"No; I was calling Tyeglev."
"Tyeglev? Why, I met him a minute ago. What a fool of a night! Onecan't find the way home."
"You saw Tyeglev? Which way did he go?"
"That way, I fancy," said the officer, waving his hand in the air."But one can't be sure of anything now. Do you know, for instance,where the village is? The only hope is the dogs barking. It is a foolof a night! Let me light a cigarette ... it will seem like a light onthe way."
The officer was, so I fancied, a little exhilarated.
"Did Tyeglev say anything to you?" I asked.
"To be sure he did! I said to him, 'good evening, brother,' and hesaid, 'good-bye.' 'How good-bye? Why good-bye.' 'I mean to shootmyself directly with a pistol.' He is a queer fish!"
My heart stood still. "You say he told you ..."
"He is a queer fish!" repeated the officer, and sauntered off.
I hardly had time to recover from what the officer had told me, whenmy own name, shouted several times as it seemed with ef
fort, caught myear. I recognised Semyon's voice.
I called back ... he came to me.
XVI
"Well?" I asked him. "Have you found Ilya Stepanitch?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where?"
"Here, not far away."
"How ... have you found him? Is he alive?"
"To be sure. I have been talking to him." (A load was lifted frommy heart.) "His honour was sitting in his great-coat under a birchtree ... and he was all right. I put it to him, 'Won't
Knock, Knock, Knock and Other Stories Page 4
